


Beware the Ides of April

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-13
Updated: 2002-04-13
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: A taxing day in Mulder's life





	Beware the Ides of April

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Beware the Ides of April

## Beware the Ides of April

#### by Ursula

Title: Beware the Ides of April  
Author: Ursula  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website: http://fullhouseslash.slashcity.net/~ursula/  
Date Archived: 04/13/02  
Category: Humor     
Pairing: Unclassified         
Rating: R  
Spoilers:   
Permission to Archive: Archive Freely  
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes: Thanks to Karen for a fast beta. Inspired by these web sites:   
http://www.landoverbaptist.org/news0899/jar.html   
http://users.compaqnet.be/dark_angael/elev.htm  
Warnings: Not to be taken internally  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, but I'm taking up a collection to fix that.  
Summary: A taxing day in Mulder's life

* * *

Time Frame: Tax Day 

Beware the Ides of April 

"The good news," Walter Skinner said, "is that you have been reinstated." 

"Wow, really?" Mulder said, shoving away the shopping cart full of bottles, cans, and porno tapes he had been collecting for recycling. 

"Really. Here's two hundred dollars for a suit. It won't be Armani but, at least, you will be clean," Walter said, wrinkling his nose at the redolence odors wafting from Mulder. 

"Two hundred dollars?" Mulder moaned. 

"Ross Dress for Less. Here's Fred's card. He's the devil with a measuring tape, but he gives a good snug fit," Walter advised. 

OooOooO 

Somehow in the rush of getting ready, Mulder didn't even ask to which division he was being assigned. On Monday morning he reported to his new assistant director and gaped. 

The guy could have been a body double for Woody Allen. Nervously polishing his black- rimmed glasses, the man said, "Agent Mulder, I don't expect any supernatural explanations for your cases. We rely on solid investigation in my department. And math, good math skills are essential. Also, I expect every penny to be on your expense report with a logical explanation. If you say we owe you a shoelace, I want to see the receipt from when you bought it and I won't pay anything but the depreciated value." 

For once, Mulder didn't argue. He was too stunned. He'd forgotten that there was a financial fraud division. 

Assistant Director Weeble handed Mulder a case file and said, "Here's your first case. You'll find your 402 and a Greyhound Bus ticket inside. You can study the case while you are on the road." 

"A Greyhound ticket, but Sir...." Mulder whimpered. 

"It's not as if there is any hurry. Many of my agents make very productive use of the time," Weeble said. 

OooOooO 

A big-bottomed woman held a toddler two hours past changing on one side of her lap while she ate an endless supply of sardine and limburger cheese sandwiches with the other. Mulder hunched his six-foot frame as far away from his fellow passenger as possible. His old home behind Starbuck's Dumpster was beginning to gain a nostalgic glow. 

Trying hard to lose himself in the case information, Mulder occupied at least enough of his brain to lessen his awareness of his horrible surroundings. Hmm, well, as a case, it wasn't as bad as he had expected. He was supposed to investigate the Church of Jar Jar Binks, a church that the IRS suspected was a tax shelter and the FBI had cause to be concerned because of fraud. The church seemed to be recruiting large numbers of men and women with extensive medical histories. 

Of course the easy explanation was that the church was fleecing the innocent. Somehow people couldn't learn the difference between pastors who were shepherds to their flocks and con men that were ready to fleece them. 

Mulder wasn't a man who accepted the simplest explanation. In fact, he regarded simple explanations as cover-ups. Unlike Mr. Spock, if he dropped a hammer on a high gravity planet, he'd never stand right over it. You just never knew. 

Perhaps the church was just another of the myriad ways to defraud the public, but what if there was another hidden purpose? 

Could it be that Immigration had not destroyed the alien menace as Agent Doggett had said? 

Mulder's thoughts turned to the alien healer he had once hope would cure his mother. If they had one of those, it would make one hell of a telethon! 

OooOooO 

All Mulder could say was that the Church of Jar Jar Binks was not hurting for money. The gigantic purplish monstrosity resembled an erect penis, straining toward heaven with two fat, darker purple balls bunched tight to launch its seeds. 

Joining the visitors thronging the foyer, Mulder had to kick away various costumed characters, all of which wanted to peddle various souvenirs that looked like Star Wars toys. Some of the souvenirs even had the remains of Happy Meal waste clinging to them, long dried smears of mustard, flecks of concrete like fat, and pickle pip dotting a plastic face. Despite their origin, people were shelling out twenty or thirty bucks a pop for the junk. 

The crowds in front of the Sacred Cantina were thick even after services were announced. 

As Mulder tried to decide which of the two chapels he should investigate first, a man who was costumed as Jar Jar Binks approached. "Crippled, blind, or sexual dysfunction?" the man asked. 

Before Mulder could answer, the man laughed and said, "Whom am I kidding? Definitely a sexual dysfunction case, take the center elevator." 

Mulder's complaint went unheard. He was pushed into a large elevator with a number of odd characters. A man held the door open for an excessive length of time, snapping every few seconds, "Darien, Darien? Move your ass!" 

The man had a demented look, a bulge under his rumpled jacket and male pattern baldness to rival Skinner's. Finally, he said, "Man, could you be slower? He let the door close at last and reached out to close on empty air. He took out a stick of chalk and drew a large circle around one corner of the elevator. "This is our personal space," the man announced. He grimaced fiercely as the next passenger boarded. 

Someone unseen giggled and loudly announced, "Ding, Ding!" as the newcomer pushed their stop. 

Mulder was jostled towards the corner. As soon as he crossed the chalk line, the bald passenger hissed, "My space...you're one of them, aren't you?" He turned to face the wall, speaking rapidly into his cell phone. 

The elevator jerked to a stop several times as the same unseen person alternated between "beep beep" and "She's climbing the stairway to heaven." 

"Oh, knock it off, Fawkes, shape up or we won't be allowed to see if this guy can cure your quicksilver madness," the bald man said. 

Hearing his hated first name, Mulder said, "Don't call me Fox! Who the hell are you?" 

"I trust no one," said the bald man. "Except Darien. Who the hell are you?" 

"I TRUST NO ONE!" Mulder shouted. "Who the hell are you?" 

The two men continued to shout at each other in escalating tones until they were thrown off the elevator. As the other man walked away, Mulder watched scowling until suddenly a metallic shimmer in the air gave way to a tall, foxy male figure. The guy turned around and grinned at Mulder, winking suggestively. His companion hissed, "You're mine, Fawkes, all mine!" 

Mulder ignored the urge to follow the pair. He had a case to solve and it wasn't the Invisible Man. 

OooOooO 

Hissing sounds came from behind one door. Mulder peered inside and saw a tall man holding up snakes. Although the guy looked familiar, Mulder had been there and done that with snake handling cults. He wanted something new and different. 

The next door immediately caught his attention. "The Church of Alex Krycek" 

Shit, Mulder was sure that Krycek was behind his discomforts. He pushed past the cluster of swaying men and women who all murmured, "The truth, there is no truth." They all had left hands covered with black leather gloves and held their arms stiffly. At odd intervals, they all picked up their phones, dialed, and said into the phones, "Look who's answering the bat phone." 

Mulder's first instinct was to check for drugs in the water coolers... 

On closer inspection, the water coolers were Erlenmeyer flasks; each containing an ice sculpture made to resemble an alien fetus. 

What kind of place was this? 

OooOooO 

Music from 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind" began and a spotlight lit the stage which resembled a silo. A huge 1013 logo, with a cross out line though it, occupied the backdrop. 

The black leather clad figure that was projected to a ten-foot height was someone Mulder knew all too well. Alex Krycek... 

At first, Krycek simply fluttered his eyelashes as the assemblage squidged. Then a throne was lowered...a throne carved to resemble Jar Jar Binks. Krycek writhed on the throne, whipping the crowd into a frenzied mass of pulsating flesh. 

Mulder had seen enough. 

Like a bull charging, Mulder dashed toward the man, yelling, "My name is Fox Mulder. You killed my father. Prepare to die." 

"Oh, look, it's M/K! M/K in action," yelled some of the worshippers. 

Immediately pandemonium broke out as different people argued, "No, he loves Skinner. Scully! Jeff Spender! No Romance; he doesn't have time. Marita! Doggett! Mulder and Skinner! Mulder and Scully! Kim and Skinner! Pendrell!" 

Most of the crowd fell to fighting and Mulder was able to make his way across the struggling, spitting and hair pulling fans to gain access to his dreaded enemy. Everyone was so involved in the struggle that Mulder was able to drag Krycek away from the temple. 

Moments later, before Mulder could even call for backup as the unruly mob realized that their beloved was being taken away, a Myrmidon army of gray flannel clad men and women marched upon the temple. They begin severing parts of the building using only knives made of paper yet they were able to carry away bits and pieces until there was nothing left but the frame. 

As Mulder gaped at this miracle, one sharp-eyed suit strutted up to him and jabbed him with a writ. "Did you pay taxes on that?" 

"What?" Mulder asked. 

"This pleasure craft," the man answered, grabbing at Krycek's right arm. 

"Hey, wait, he's my prisoner," Mulder yelled. 

"Under the fair usage doctrine," the bureaucrat muttered, pulling out his palm pilot, "Assuming reasonable deterioration, offsetting with a fine for unreported income and outcome. Obvious causality loss. Imputed Interest factor." The man's hands were a blur over the keyboard as he worked until he said, " I think this is correct." 

Before Mulder could react, the IRS agent had hauled Krycek away, leaving Mulder with only the man's prosthetic arm and the echo of the man's screams dying away in his ears. 

Shaken, Mulder walked away and thought, 'Not even he deserved being left in their hands.' 

OooOooO 

Time whooshed by and.... 

The baying of the hounds was a terrible noise. Mulder stumbled through a dark landscape, strewn with broken rocks, cactus, and empty Acme product boxes. He hoped that Native Americans would again rescue him, but his brilliant mind told him it was a vain hope. There was a major pow-wow in Gallup, and every potential ally was there. 

The yelps of the pursuit grew nearer as Mulder tripped over a loose plot line. He fell and when he managed to roll onto his back; his enemy was upon him. He gasped as he saw... 

Krycek. 

His enemy was dressed in a beautiful leather suit, a peculiar garment that appeared to writhe over his skin. Alex brushed it nonchalantly and said, "Tax payers...our motto 'We skin them alive because it hurts more that way'." The suit whimpered pathetically. 

At that point, Mulder noticed that the supposed dogs were actually Doggett and Skinner. The two pushed off the fake heads they were wearing and panted. "Those things are too hot," Skinner said. 

"Alex, this collar is too tight and also the leather thong is riding up my ass," Doggett said. 

"Did you try putting a knot in the back?" asked Skinner, who was wiggling in a manner unbecoming to a man of his stature and high rank. 

"No, what good would that do?" Doggett complained. "Your thong is still riding up your ass." 

Wiggling harder, Skinner's face was getting very red and his eyes fluttered closed. He said between heavy breaths, "Yes, but." Gasp. "But" Gasp. "The knot" Gasp. Pant. "Makes it soooo good!" "Ahhhhh" 

"Good boy," Krycek said, patting the bald head as it came to rest on his thigh. "Keep it up and we'll go to Viagra Falls next week." 

The two men flopped at Krycek's feet like big dogs. Alex grinned and said, "So Mulder, things have changed." 

"You dirty rat," Mulder started, his teeth automatically forming a Jimmy Cagney face. "You killed my father. Prepare to die." 

"Nah, look at this," Krycek said, tossing a file at Mulder. 

"It was a tax shelter? He had you fake his death as a tax shelter?" Mulder said. 

"Well, I understand that the alimony was too high," Alex said. "Given that your sister has been in a state of suspended animation that has kept her a minor child and thus eligible for support since she was abducted." 

"What?" Mulder said. "She's alive?" 

"Well, you could call it that. She's enclosed in a slab of carbon, but it's not all that bad. Hans Solo is in there with her," Alex explained. 

"How did you get loose from the IRS?" Mulder said. "It's been a nightmare. First they went after Skinner, then Doggett. Reyes joined a nunnery to avoid them and as for Scully, she's living with William in the hundred acre woods under the name of Sanders. The last I saw of Skinner and Doggett they were being evicted with only barrels to wear. As for you, I thought they declared you a pleasure craft and were auctioning you for back taxes." 

At this point, Skinner piped up. "And bless all who sail in him!" 

Alex said, "I figured after all those years of switching sides, being thrown in prisons, betraying, wheeling, dealing, and fighting aliens, a guy needs a break. When you busted my church, it was the last straw. I hit bottom. That was what worked. It turns out that the IRS loves to screw you; so being the perfect bottom worked. I took over the place. As for the aliens, forget them. They have fled in terror before my ultimate weapon, Tax Form Plan L Alien Merger or as I called it 'PLAM'." 

"It took up most of the UFO just to store the instructions," Doggett gloated. 

"If you were on my side all along, Krycek, why are you chasing me? Why have you hounded me all over this desert?" Mulder asked. 

Alex smiled wickedly and he leaned forward to blow a kiss at Mulder. Then he said, "Now it's time to collect my dividends, Mulder." 

And with that, Alex lifted his Mulder up in his arms and they lived happily ever after or at least until next tax day. 

The end. 

* * *

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